A Dream Come True
by AnEvilTwin
Summary: John awakens in new surroundings. Set after 3x07.


**Author's Note: **I am new to writing fics, and definitely new to writing anything M-rated. Originally I did not intend for this story to be M-rated, but one thing led to another, as so often happens with such encounters!

Also, have spent the last month shamelessly binging on every last A/B fic, and I'm sure I've read stories that contain similar scenarios, phrases, etc. If I subconsciously borrowed anything from someone else's fic, it is entirely by accident, so please accept my apologies and feel free to let me know. Otherwise, enjoy! Oh, and the characters are obviously not mine.

* * *

John lay quietly in his bed, not daring to move a muscle. He could see nothing in the darkness, but he could feel a weight pressing down on his chest, extending past his stomach, down his leg. His prison-honed instincts told him to flee, to get out from under the weight and escape, but somehow he sensed that he needed to remain still. He breathed in slowly, deeply, and for a moment he thought he smelled something other than the dank, intolerable mixture of odors that permeated the prison walls. This other scent was light and sweet, fruity and flowery, but also deep, heady, and familiar. The intoxicating bouquet came and went like wisps of smoke from a far-off fire, carried by a shifting wind. The phantom weight spread across John's chest, enveloping him, sending a shiver throughout his body. He swallowed hard.

Normally the sleepless nights would pass excruciatingly slowly, the silence occasionally punctuated by a cough or a cry, the pitter-patter of a scurrying rat, or the heavy footsteps of a guard stalking through the corridor. On his worn, thin, uneven mattress, John would shift continuously to ease the pain in his leg, turning first to one side, then the other, bending his leg, then extending it. This series of graceless acrobatics would continue almost until dawn, when exhaustion finally won out, and he slept. During this short respite, sometimes Anna would make a brief and troubling appearance; she was a distant apparition, hazy and always out of reach. However, John's slumber was usually dreamless and empty of all sensation, mirroring his existence in prison: claustrophobic and endless, marked by nothing but the passing of the minutes and hours, arbitrary and meaningless as they were in such a hopeless place.

The weight was now accompanied by a light wind, strange and rhythmic against John's skin. The heaviness shifted, becoming solid against him. There was that smell again. John still couldn't see. For the first time he noticed the absence of sound, at least those sounds that had he had become so accustomed to. There was only silence, and then a shrill chirping noise which was soon answered by a similar call, slightly less piercing but no less musical. Birds, John realized. He never heard birds in prison. Now he knew he was asleep and dreaming, and he must wake up before the dream took a turn. On the rare occasions that John did dream, it always ended badly, even when it started with something as pleasant and innocuous as singing birds, or a walk through a meadow, or a smiling Anna. Her smiles would soon give way to choking sobs, wracking her body as she reached for him, her eyes red, her face contorted in anguish, but he was handcuffed and being dragged away. The meadow would soon be ringing with explosions, and bullets would whistle past John's ears as he tried to run, but the mud was knee deep; it was like running in cement. He wasn't making any progress, he was tiring quickly, and the blue sky was now filled with thick, suffocating black smoke. John knew that the chirping birds would soon turn into piercing screams. He had to wake up.

John still couldn't see. The weight was still there. With his right hand, he reached up to the side of his chest to explore the mystery. His hand landed on skin, but it wasn't his own; it was soft, cool, and it moved slightly under his touch. There was a hand, much smaller than his own. His fingers explored curiously, working their way between these smaller fingers, which then grasped his, pressing a metal band against his skin. The enigmatic weight shifted on his chest, on his leg, and now also settled against his neck. Something was tickling his shoulder. That lovely smell was everywhere. There was another noise, accompanied by the strange wind. It was a long release of breath, and it wasn't his own. Everything suddenly fit together, and in an instant John became alert. His eyes opened.

The walls were white. Prison walls weren't white. The birds were calling to one another. The window rattled slightly, and on the far wall John could see the shadows of leaves rustling in the wind, cast by the early morning light. There were no birds in prison. John was warm and comfortable. The air was filled with that delicious smell, and there were no birds in prison. No birds, no leaves, no warmth, no comfort, and no Anna.

Anna.

John was frozen. For a long minute, he dared not move. Where just moments before he had been willing himself to awaken, now he wished to remain ensconced in this dream for as long as possible. She was here. Where was here? It must be a dream. It wasn't. Finally John turned his head slightly. His nose was engulfed in the pillowy strands of Anna's hair, and that smell - her unique scent - flooded his nostrils, followed by a sensation of warmth that spread throughout his entire body. Suddenly he was cognizant of every part of her that was touching him, and he felt it all at once; the soft weight of her head against the crook of his shoulder, the slender leg draped over his own, the arm covering his chest, the silky warmth nestled against his hip. This last revelation sparked a primal stirring within him, and John felt himself harden almost instantly. He was almost ashamed at his reaction, but as he continued to breathe her in, the feeling gave way to complete exhilaration. Anna's ear was pressed against him, and he was sure she would be awakened by the uncontrollable pounding of his heart. John's left hand lay on the bed behind her, and he carefully brought it to rest against her back. He wished to slide it down underneath the sheets so he could feel more of her, but he knew his hand was cold, and he didn't want to wake her up.

But then Anna was awake. John felt her steady breaths cease, and her entire body tensed as she became aware of his presence. Her hand squeezed his, her back arched, and she pressed the length of her body against him, releasing a sigh against his chest. He stroked her back now, tilted his head down to look at her, and she lifted her eyes, still heavy from sleep, to meet his.

John smiled, his eyes wrinkling at the corners. "Good morning, love." He barely recognized his own voice, soft and deep, a tone reserved only for her.

"Good morning, indeed," Anna returned playfully as she laid a kiss on his chest. He felt her shift again, moving firm against him as though she was trying to get closer, even though there was already no space separating them. Again, John's attention was drawn to the softness against his hip, and he could now feel that she was warm, damp, as ready for him as he was for her. A new pulse of heat flooded his body, and he released her hand to bring his own up against her chin, guiding her face up to meet his once more. Their eyes moved over one another, growing dark and unfocused with mutual understanding. Anna's tongue swept across her lips, and she hovered over him for a moment before he reached up with his mouth to seize hers, his hand leaving her back and landing in her hair, his fingers working their way between the sleek strands as he pressed her down to him, eagerly exploring her lips and tongue with his own. He pulled her leg up over him, wanting her to feel his intent, which was now rigid against her. Anna responded by snaking a hand down between their bodies to take hold of him, and John writhed in her grasp for a moment before deftly flipping them both over in a single fluid motion. She cried out in surprise, and he silenced her with another kiss, tender and deep, which she fervently returned. Automatically she parted her legs, his hips settling between them, and then he was moving inside her, and for awhile they became completely lost in one another.

* * *

John and Anna lay side by side, legs still intertwined, the sheets beneath them a mess that concerned neither of them. The back of her hand brushed lazily against his chest, and he first squeezed her hip, then her waist, stroking with his thumb, his hand making his way up her body before settling against her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, kissing the palm of his hand with a light brush of her tongue, prompting him to shift closer and find her lips with his own. Their kiss was soft, easy, unhurried, and a long minute passed before they parted, their faces coming to rest inches apart on the pillow.

"Did you sleep well?" John finally asked.

"Mmm," came the reply. "I did. It's been a long time since I could say that."

John felt a pang of guilt at her admission, but it was quickly alleviated as she smiled at him, her eyes shining, her face mirroring his own with a mixture of contentment, relief, joy, and slight disbelief that their long nightmare was finally behind them. They studied one another for a long moment before Anna broke the silence.

"Would you like some tea, or something to eat?" Her genuine desire to tend to his needs struck John as incredibly endearing, yet he couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him. Her expression briefly turned to one of mock indignity, but it soon melted under his adoring gaze.

"Not just yet. I'd like to stay here a little while longer, if you don't mind." He punctuated his reply with a quick kiss on the tip of her nose, eliciting another warm smile from Anna, who moved to nestle herself in his embrace. He gladly obliged, surrounding her in his arms, planting a soft kiss in her hair as he held her firmly in his grasp. John closed his eyes.

The room was bright with the light of the new day, which was now well underway. The lone pair of calling birds had been joined by what seemed like an entire flock living in the tree outside the window, their singing accompanied by a cacophony of other sounds: voices in the distance, hoofbeats on the path, a passing motor. But in spite of the brightness and the noise, Anna and John drifted off to sleep once more. His slumber was dreamless, like it so often had been, but the feeling of emptiness would forever be banished in this new life, rich with sensation, hope, and the love of the woman in his arms.


End file.
